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Page 79
Chapter Four
It was late in the morning before Alinor was free to go to Geoffrey, who had been ordered to lie down on his pallet in Ian's bedchamber and rest until she had time for him. He had begged to go with Ian, assuring him over and over that he was not ill. By then he was so flushed with distress and with struggling to restrain his tears that he felt very feverish to Ian's touch, and Ian remained adamant. It could not hurt the child to rest abed for a day, even if he was well, and if he was beginning some illness, the rest might check it.
Alinor found Geoffrey with his face turned to the wall. She wondered whether he was asleep, because he could not have failed to hear her coming. Then a glimmer of an idea came to her. Joanna might not be the only child to be distressed by her marriage to Ian. She drew over a low stool, settled on it, and put a hand under the boy's hair on the back of his neck. He was not asleep. She could feel the tension of the muscles, but he had no fever.
"Turn round, Geoffrey."
Rigidly, reluctantly, the boy turned. His face was as blank as a mask, his eyes nearly black, fixed on nothing and as much as possible hidden under lowered lids. Alinor loosened the laces of his shirt and found the pulse in his throat. It pounded hard and fast, not weakness or fever.
"I do not believe you are ill, Geoffrey," Alinor said quietly.
"I said I was not, madam."
"Sit up, then. It is easier to talk." She waited until

 
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